


Blondes

by emmaliza



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is different, fitting in far better with the group than any woman they've met, better than Marius does have the time and better than Grantaire ever has. Courfeyrac tries to pay her compliments on her beauty and she rolls her eyes and ignores him; she winds up deep in debate with Feuilly about Bohemia or something, and a smile plays on Feuilly's lips like he welcomes such a conversation. Enjolras is forced to regard her with a reluctant respect. She is not just a distraction.</p>
<p>Grantaire meanwhile, sees passionate blue eyes surrounded by blonde hair and <i>hates</i> it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blondes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink meme prompt: "AU where Marius brings Cosette to meet the Amis. One of them (You choice who) sneaks off with her to a side room where they fuck before any of the others even realize they're gone."
> 
> Pairings are Grantaire/Cosette, with background Marius/Cosette and implied unrequited Grantaire/Enjolras.

Enjolras is unhappy.

Everyone knows it, even Marius with his complete inability to notice anything ever, but for once their glorious leader's wishes have been overruled. They've been too intrigued by Marius's tales about his beautiful angel, they have to know her; Combefaire actually made the point it is better they have this curiosity satisfied and not have to ask more, not have it take up any more meeting time, which also angers Enjolras. Pretty much everything angers Enjolras.

She's not quite what Grantaire expected. Well, she looks just like he expected - golden curls, shining blue eyes, full round breasts. If you approached a man, any man, and asked him to describe a beauty he'd be talking about her. But _she_ is different, fitting in far better with the group than any woman they've met, better than Marius does have the time and better than Grantaire ever has. Courfeyrac tries to pay her compliments on her beauty and she rolls her eyes and ignores him; she winds up deep in debate with Feuilly about Bohemia or something, and a smile plays on Feuilly's lips like he welcomes such a conversation. Enjolras is forced to regard her with a reluctant respect. She is not just a distraction.

Meanwhile Grantaire sees passionate blue eyes surrounded by blonde hair and _hates_ it.

She's sitting next to Bossuet and manages to knock his drink off the table and onto her lap. "Oh, I'm so sorry Monsieur!" she cries, trying to dab at the liquid with the edge of her skirt.

Bossuet laughs. "Don't worry about it. It'd happen to me anyway, whether you were here or not." She smiles at this, as ale sinks through the cloth. Grantaire sees her skirt turn slightly translucent, clinging to her thighs.

She sighs. "There wouldn't be linen anywhere around here, would there? So I can dry myself off?"

His friends share looks, and it seems they don't actually know. For once, Grantaire's many drunken messes he's had to clean himself up after come in handy. "Yeah. Little cupboard at the back." He stands. "Come on, I'll show you."

She nods at this and he takes her by the hand, letting Marius stare at her oddly as they go. _Sorry about this, by the way._

He underestimated the size of the cupboard. At least, there's enough room that once they get there, he can slam her up against the wall inside it.

"What are you doing?!" she cries, and Grantaire should be paying more attention; she might just go and scream for help, and there where would he be? Instead he grips her by the hips and pins her in place.

"Shush." And with that he _bites_ her neck, doesn't kiss it, moves her hands to her breasts to grope and fondle roughly. She gasps, grabs at his hair; he smirks against her collarbone.

"Poor Pontmercy," he comments vaguely, "he's been through a lot you know."

"Shut up," she snaps, and he laughs. He starts tearing at the stays on the front of her dress. "Careful, you'll break them!"

"Yes, and how would you explain that to your beloved?"

"They're expensive, and my father would insist on paying for replacing them. And I will not make him do that for me," she says, and he has no idea what she's on about but he decides to be more careful anyway. Besides. Nice as her tits are, they're not really what he's interested in.

He starts pulling up her skirt, pale blue over white petticoats like the fucking virgin Mary. He'd love to come on her dress, on her face; show everyone what they've been up to. But he's not going to push his luck. She moans as he runs a finger along her slit.

"Fucking hell you're wet," he comments. "Does poor Marius have any idea he's marrying a whore?"

She laughs at that and it pisses him off; in revenge he pushes two fingers inside her and listens to her cry out. "Careful. People will think you're hurt."

"You talk a lot," she says, grinding on his fingers.

"Not all my mouth is good for." Alright it's a cheap line and he knows it. "But that's not what you want, is it? No - you want my cock, don't you?"

"No, I'm in a tiny linen closet with you with my skirt around my waist out of a purely platonic admiration for your ideals."

Jesus fuck, that sentence--

_A pale body before him, lying face down; his hands tangled in soft golden curls, moans and whimpers filling the air, him chanting: "You want it you little slut, you want me..._

He shoves her harder against the wall. "Right. Prepare to have my ideals all over you."

"That doesn't even make sense," she says, but he undoes his trousers and thrusts into her _hard_ ; she practically screams. "Jesus Christ!"

"Blasphemy too? You are a bad girl."

She moans as he thrusts into her roughly, legs wrapping around his waist. It's a surprisingly strong grip; her legs are firm and muscled...

_Thighs tensed and straining, clamping around his neck, "Oh god, oh god," comes a groaning voice. "Oh god, I'm going to come..."_

_He pulls back and laughs. "Then come; come right in my mouth and I'll swallow every drop, I swear..."_

He grips her hips again to keep her up, digs his nails in so at least she'll have some bruises to explain. She clenches tight around him; Christ she practically feels like a virgin, but how can that be with the way she's acted tonight? She groans and squeezes her legs around his waist. "Harder."

"Say please."

"No."

He wants to tease her, but she's tight as hell and he's on the edge; if he gets off without her it won't exactly earn her respect. He presses his thumb to her clit and rubs back and forth roughly; listens to her breaths become harsh and panting.

"Fuck!" she shouts as he buries himself inside her. "Oh god, fuck, fuck yes!"

_"Yes, yes I want this, I want you; I love you..."_

_He smiles sweetly at the other man. "Just as long as you're sure," he says before they share a kiss._

She quivers and convulses around him, giving several muffled shrieks as she comes. He wants to mark her, but he decides it's not worth having to take care of a fucking baby, so he pulls out before he finishes; he jerks himself off against her thigh, groaning in pleasure; he leaves that white sticky substance there for her to feel the rest of the night.

He lets her back down and she struggles to catch her breath; she pulls her skirt down without bothering to wipe his come away. She grabs a cloth like nothing even happened; he just dabs at the drink on her dress. For once he's lost for words.

"Marius is waiting for me," she says and walks out, and he can't help but follow.

They return and Grantaire asks some questions; for people to wonder why they were gone so long. But no-one says anything. Cosette resumes her place between Feuilly and her beloved Marius; he gives her a kiss on the cheek. Grantaire scowls while he also reclaims his place, lifting his bottle to his lips.

Enjolras waits until he concludes an aside to Combefaire to comment. "You're back," he says simply - directed at Cosette, not Grantaire. She nods and Grantaire takes another gulp.

Marius is smiling lovingly at Cosette and Grantaire allows bitterness to comfort him. _You wouldn't be smiling like that if you knew the truth._ Then Marius whispers something to Cosette, she says "Oh," and adjusts her skirt with an embarrassed flush. They nuzzle their noses together in a way that makes Grantaire's stomach churn. He sees Marius hand dart to Cosette's hip, where Grantaire gripped and bruised her, and she gasps a little. Grantaire wants to be smug, but then he sees Marius grin.

He's a bit confused. But Marius's eyes flicker away from Cosette's face, and with a slight flush - Marius smiles at him.


End file.
